


Fast Food

by kethni



Series: Bad Things [2]
Category: Veep
Genre: F/M, Hate Sex, Stress Relief, season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-05
Updated: 2015-12-05
Packaged: 2018-05-05 04:01:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5360486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kethni/pseuds/kethni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>‘But we’re not friends,’ he said. ‘Nor are we equals. You’re the president. I’m your campaign manager. Neither of us has any desire for this to mean anything more than it does.’</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fast Food

 

Sentimentality was for losers. You fucked because you had an itch that needed scratching. The only difference between fucking and eating was that you never had to worry about your pizza telling everyone that you’d eaten it in your underwear at 3 a.m. while trashed on Jim Beam and binge watching _The Good Wife._

Selina was having second thoughts about fucking Kent the night before. Scratch that. She was having something like two thousand and eighty-fourth thoughts about fucking Kent. Christ. Thank fuck she never banged Gary, he’d have broadcast it to the nation and started making plans for the wedding. At least she didn’t have to worry about Kent telling people.

Did she? No. No. Nobody was entirely sure what he’d had going on with Sue, so obviously he kept that stuff close to his vest. Or did everyone know except her? It wasn’t like she listened much when Gary started yacking away.

Fuck. What if Kent was _that_ guy? The one who told all their buddies all the details about every single woman he screwed?

No. That had to be bullshit. The only thing Kent talked about was polls and… boats. Nothing about women. Selina was only guessing that he’d dated Sue. Until last night she couldn’t have even been sure that he was straight. Maybe he wasn’t. Maybe he fucked his calculator. Or his boat.

She looked up as Gary burbled into the room with God knows what on his mind. Shoes probably, or snacks.

‘Gary, uh, do you know if Kent and Sue were dating?’

He opened and closed his mouth. ‘Well, I guess so? They were… spending a lot of time together but then they had some sort of a falling out.’ He frowned as he thought about it. ‘I suppose they might’ve just been friends.’ He smiled painfully. ‘Men and women can have platonic relationships.’

Selina leant back in her chair. ‘Uh huh, sure, but you never heard Kent talk about, you know, relations?’

Gary inclined his head. ‘Like… relatives?’

‘Like _sex_.’

His eyes widened and he stepped back. ‘Oh my God, _no_.’

Selina blew out her cheeks. ‘Thank fuck for that.’

‘Why?’ Gary asked. After a moment a look of horror bloomed on his face. ‘You didn’t…’

‘No!’ Selina gave a high pitched laugh. ‘No! That would never, ever happen.’ She paused, sat up, and straightened her blouse. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about, Gary. Frankly, I don’t want to know.’

He looked away for a moment and surreptitiously swiped his hand across his eyes. ‘Not that Kent would tell me. He doesn’t like me very much.’

Selina snorted. ‘Show me someone he does like.’

‘Richard Gauden?’ Gary suggested.

She looked at him blankly. ‘Richard Gauden? Who the chicken fried fuck is Richard Gauden?’

Gary flapped a hand. ‘You know, the CEO of Gauden Media Enterprises. He owns tons of newspapers, websites, radio stations, and TV channels.’

‘Huh,’ Selina said. ‘The asshole with who told the ethics committee last fall that politicians didn’t have any right to privacy?’

He nodded. ‘He’s an awful, awful man.’

Fuck. That was just _great_. What the hell had she been thinking? 

***

Selina hurled the vibrator across the room. It described a short arc, landed on the rug, and bounced a couple of times before coming to a halt. Useless fucking thing. Useless thing _for_ fucking.

She needed to get laid. She bet Clinton just snapped his fingers and they brought him badly dressed interns. JFK probably had actresses running hot and cold. Everyone knew that the aides were sneaking them out of the damn back door. But Selina? She got jack shit. No dates. No fuck buddies. No sex on tap.

She hadn’t gotten laid since… Christ. Since that night at the convention. Weeks ago. She’d been sore for days. And Kent had completely ruined a perfectly good Zac Posen dress. Selina had gotten in a couple of good licks herself, given him some pretty vicious scratches, but she hadn’t forgiven him for the dress. She’d only worn the damn thing twice. Then she’d had all the stress of worrying that he was going to talk. She hadn’t _really_ thought that he’d tell his newspaper buddy. Not really.

But she couldn’t honestly say she regretted it. Hate sex was like fast food. You knew it was bad for you but _damn_ if it wasn’t satisfying. Satisfying and afterwards kinda queasy.

Maybe she could call Andrew. The sex was always good. But only good, and besides it was always such a mess afterwards. They ended up fighting and just hashing the same damn fights over and over. She needed dirty, nasty sex with someone who wouldn’t get all… needy or, God forbid, expect some kind of _relationship_. Someone who could be relied upon to get it up, get it on, and get out. Someone cold and…

Shit.

***

Catherine was staring at her. She had her ‘ew gross, mom,’ face on. The one where her expression was a mixture of bafflement and disgust. It was an old friend that expression. It had kept Selina company through some of the most embarrassing moments in her life.

‘What?’ Selina asked, stabbing her spoon into her bowl of oatmeal. ‘What’s with the face?’

Catherine rolled her eyes as she poked at her breakfast. ‘It’s just my usual face, mom. The one I have twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.’

‘Until you hit thirty-five anyway.’

‘Really, the woman with a loyalty card from her plastic surgeon is making face-lift jokes?’ Catherine asked.

Selina waved her spoon. ‘I have way too much on my plate to deal with whatever you have going on there,’ she said.

Catherine pushed away her bowl. ‘Yep, I’m the one with the problem.’

‘What does that mean?’

Catherine shrugged as she stood up. ‘It means you’ve been getting increasingly cranky for weeks.’

‘Well, gee, I happen to the president of the United States so, you know, maybe there’s a tiny amount of stress going on.’

Catherine’s face now had ‘bullshit’ written in ten foot letters. ‘You’re not stressed, Mom.’

‘Oh, thanks for agreeing to see me, Doctor. What’s the diagnosis?’

Catherine picked up her bag. ‘Really, Mom, you’re going to make me say it aloud? You need a date or something. Just not dad. Or your personal trainer. Have some class.’

‘ _Excuse_ me?’ Selina asked. ‘What did you say?’

‘You heard me.’

***

Have some class? Have some _class_? Selina was still smarting from that when she sat down to a strategy meeting. That was some kind of bullshit. Catherine had dragged home a couple of ‘protest’ boyfriends; a churlish emo, and a wannabe ‘bad boy’ who had strutted around with an unsmoked cigarette behind his ear. The rest of her boyfriends had been selection of sad-sacks and geeks who slumped around the place looking overawed and confused. They couldn’t hold a conversation that wasn’t about Lord of the Rings, Daft Punk, or Mario Brothers. Real classy.

Shit. Everyone was looking at her.

Kent narrowed his eyes. God, she hated when he squinted at her like that. He looked like he was about to tell her to explain something to the class, or send her ass off to detention.

‘Ma’am, do you have any objections to a charity bike ride?’ he prompted.

‘Uh, no, I guess.’ She snickered. ‘My ass looks great in Lycra.’

There were dutiful smiles around the table, although Tom ruined her mood by offering to come on the ride also. After that humiliation in the limo she was feeling just a little sore around him. Kent seemed surprised and a little hesitant for some reason, but Selina figured it was better than doing it alone. Spread the humiliation. All these stunts were one kind of humiliation or another. Visit factories and make nice with sweaty workers. Serve pancakes to vacuous assholes. Ride a bike. Kiss babies. Well, not the last one. She liked babies. Sure they were sticky and messy, but you fed one end and wiped the other. Everything in life should be so simple.

***

‘What is it with you and exercise?’ she asked Kent, afterwards when they were finalising the details. ‘You made us all go river rafting and now cycling. What’s next, you gonna send me hiking up an active volcano? Gonna ship me off to Hawaii or something?’

‘Ooh, Hawaii,’ Gary murmured.

She knew she should’ve sent him out with everyone else.

Kent raised an eyebrow. ‘In fact there are a number of active volcanoes in Washington state. However, mountain climbing seems a poor choice of event.’

‘Gee, ya think?’ she asked.

‘Climbing a mountain would offer a poor ratio of photographic opportunity to time and effort invested.’ Kent tapped his stylus on his tablet. ‘Additionally cycling and rafting require only a very basic level of fitness. Climbing Mount St. Helens might be an unrealistic goal, practically speaking.’

Selina would have had a suitably snarky come back, she would, but Gary stepped all over it with a loud gasp.

‘The president can climb it if she wants!’

‘Damn right I can,’ Selina said. ‘I can climb anything I want.’

Kent frowned slightly. ‘Such as Mount St. Helens?’ 

‘ _Anything_ ,’ she hissed. ‘Well I could,’ she said, pushing back her hair. ‘I could absolutely climb a goddamn active freaking volcano if I wanted, and I would do it great.’ She thought about it for a second or two. ‘Not that I want to.’

‘Probably wise.’ There was an edge of sarcasm in Kent’s voice that she could’ve missed if she hadn’t been listening for it. The sarcasm was infuriating and the sucking-up was nauseating. Jesus. Didn’t he have some freaking middle gear?

Gary glanced at his watch. ‘Um, Ma’am, I have that thing…?’

‘Oh right, your doctor thing.’ She waved her hand. ‘You go do that.’

‘Are you sure? I can postpone it if you need me,’ Gary said, weirdly hopeful.

‘God no.’ She waved her hand. ‘You run along.’

Gary’s shoulders dropped as he slumped out of the room.

‘I suppose after work you’re planning on recharging your batteries or cleaning the fluff out of your diodes,’ Selina said to Kent.

He smiled thinly. ‘It’s the twenty-first century, Ma’am,’ he said. ‘Diodes are passé. I have to clear static discharge from my circuits and processors.’

‘Cute,’ she said. ‘I wish I could just leave the White House at the end of the day. Go running or visit some hot new restaurant. Whatever the fuck you do in the evenings.’

Kent tapped his foot. ‘Tonight I was planning on eating leftover takeout and watching Netflix,’ he said. ‘Envy me wildly at your leisure.’

‘Huh.’ She slumped back in her chair. ‘Netflix and chill, right? That’s what the kids are saying.’

‘You’re aware that’s not what the phrase means,’ Kent said.

‘It doesn’t mean chilling out and watching a marathon of _How to Get Away With Murder_ then?’

‘No.’

Selina winced. ‘I’m going to regret asking what it means, aren’t I?’

‘Sex.’

‘What?’

Kent sighed slightly. ‘It means sex.’

She blinked at him. ‘What do you mean, it means sex?’

His foot was still tapping. He was always freaking fidgeting. She outghta get him tested for something.

‘I’m unsure how the statement can be clarified.’

‘Fucking teenagers,’ she grumbled. ‘Jesus, if they’re not taking selfies of their “baes” “on fleek” then they’ve having “Netflix and chill.” Why can’t they just speak normal English?’ She scowled at him. ‘Are you laughing at me?’

Kent shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t go so far, Ma’am,’ he said. ‘Mildly amused perhaps.’

‘Screw you and your mild amusement.’

He checked his phone. ‘If that’s all, Ma’am?’

‘Hey, I was going somewhere with this conversation.’ She waved a hand. ‘I wasn’t just randomly babbling for the sake of it.’

‘Hmm. Always reassuring.’

Selina glowered him into silence. ‘What I’m saying is, being president is goddamn stressful. So you would think that people would understand I need some freaking relief from that stress, but oh no. I can’t get drunk in case there’s an emergency. I sure as hell can’t get high. I can’t date anyone because who in their right mind would want the press up their freaking assholes twenty-four hours a day.’

‘Uh. Huh,’ he said.

‘I need some stress relief, Kent, and I think you can help me out. You get me?’

He looked blank. ‘You want me to get you drugs?’

‘God, no. I can get weed if I need it.’ She smirked a little. ‘I know someone.’

Kent nodded. ‘Catherine.’

‘Who the fuck told you that?’

Kent straightened his shirt. ‘In a round-a-bout way, she did. I was somewhat concerned but it’s a manageable situation. Certain steps have been taken to ensure that all parties involved realise that it’s not in their interest to speak to the press.’

‘Christ!’ She stood and walked over to the bar. ‘Were you going to tell me?’

He frowned slightly. ‘Ma’am, you’re aware that she occasionally smokes marijuana. You just told me.’

She poured herself a drink. ‘What else don’t I know that you know?’

He tucked his hand in his pocket. ‘If I told you what I know that you don’t know that I know, then you would know what I know.’

Selina blinked, shook her head, and took a gulp of whiskey. ‘Well, discretion is the better part of valour and all that shit.’

‘Ma’am, I’m a little lost in the woods. Precisely how may I help you?’

She swirled her drink around in her glass. ‘I’m a good looking woman, Kent. I am vibrant and exciting and I have natural, normal needs. Needs that are not being met and I do not mean drugs, Kent, nor do I mean rock and roll. You hearing me?’

For a moment, she thought that she saw faint pink spots touch his cheeks, but they passed in an instant.

‘Ah,’ he said. ‘You require… companionship.’

‘Yes.’

‘I see,’ he said slowly.

‘Any yet, no.’

He drew his brows together as he frowned. ‘Yes but no?’

‘I don’t want long walks on the beach,’ she said.

‘Uh-huh.’

‘Or cuddling on the couch,’ she added.

‘Right.’

Selina took another sip of her whiskey. ‘I don’t want any of that bullshit emotional entanglement. I don’t want a boyfriend. I sure as fuck don’t want a husband. What I want is a big dick that is, coincidentally, attached to a guy.’

Kent winced, ever so slightly. ‘You require sex without the concomitant emotional attachment.’

She gestured at him with her glass. ‘Exactly. No muss, no fuss.’

‘I can make some phone calls,’ he said. ‘As a profession the practitioners skew young and men are rather less readily available than women. That is to say, discreet and healthy young men of complementary interests are relatively less common than women.’

Selina rolled her eyes. ‘I’m not asking you to pimp someone to me.’

He relaxed a fraction. ‘Apologies. What are you asking?’

Oh for God’s sake. Was he being deliberately obtuse? ‘I need to get laid. No-strings. No emotional baggage. Just good, meaningless, but satisfying sex.’

‘Understood.’

‘Like we had,’ she said. ‘We’re both adults. We saw it for exactly what it was; a healthy release of sexual tension. A good, solid fuck. It didn’t change anything. It didn’t interfere with anything. Nobody got hurt. Nobody found out.’ She slammed down her glass. ‘Are you hearing me now?’

‘Uh…’ he said, wide-eyed as a rabbit in the headlights of a semi. ‘Me?’

 ‘This is a practical issue,’ Selina said. ‘The sex is good. We don’t even like each other, so we can be dispassionate about it. We both understand how important it is that nobody finds out.’ She folded her arms. ‘I don’t have to tell you that last part is especially important.’

‘No,’ he said. ‘You don’t.’

Selina walked back to the couch. ‘So? You gonna crunch some numbers or poll your dick?’

Kent shuffled his feet. ‘Not now?’

‘Christ, no. After work. In private.’

He frowned slightly for a moment and then nodded. ‘Sure.’

‘Oh.’ Selina sat down. ‘Is that it?’

He nodded and headed towards the door. Then he paused and looked back at her. ‘I’m not a gigolo.’

She sniggered. ‘Good, because I’m not stuffing any dollars into your underwear.’

‘You’re thinking of strippers,’ Kent said.

Selina grinned at him. ‘Are ya a stripper?’

‘No.’ He was scowling but there was a hint of a smile somewhere under that beard.

‘Good,’ Selina said. ‘I still wouldn’t shove money in your underwear if you were.’

‘I’ll try to cope with the disappointment,’ Kent said.

***

She wasn’t getting gussied up. Hell no. This wasn’t a date. She wasn’t trying to make an impression. It was just sex. An arrangement, just like car-pooling or a timeshare. She’d never done either. But hey, the principle was pretty much the same. Right? Right. Besides it was Kent. He didn’t care. He’d been more uncomfortable when he thought she was asking him to find her some stud.

Just sex. She’d never arranged to have sex before. It had always arisen naturally either out of fun or anger. Men didn’t care about that. Sex was a commodity they thought they could buy, either outright with prostitutes, or with meals and presents. Hell, gay men went to bath houses and that kinda thing. Alright for them. Society would shit a brick if women divorced sex from relationships the way men did.

She wasn’t having him ruin another dress, either. Sure, in the heat of the moment having your clothes ripped off hit the spot. Then afterwards all you had was a lot of muscle strains and a ruined dress you couldn’t get repaired without a very awkward conversation. So, she put on some yoga pants and an exercise top – showing just a hint of cleavage. In deference to the fact that men were all about what they could see, she put on a nice bra and matching pair of panties. In deference to the fact that her feet were killing her, she went barefoot.

Kent had changed clothes too, smart casual in ironed jeans and a blue-checked flannel shirt. He was carrying a small, leather backpack.

‘Did you change something?’ Selina asked as he followed her into the bedroom. ‘You look different.’

‘Uh-huh.’

That was it. That was the extent of his small talk. When she looked again she could see that he’d trimmed and tidied his beard. A light tang in the air suggested that he’d put on some scent as well.

Well, shit. Now she felt bad she hadn’t brushed her hair or touched up her makeup.

Selina swung her arms as she walked around the bed. ‘Have you done this before?’ she asked. ‘Not with me,’ she said when he looked mildly concerned. ‘I don’t have dementia.’

‘You’re the only president with whom I have been intimate.’

Selina closed the curtains. ‘Huh. That was suspiciously specific.’ She turned around, rubbing her forearm.

Kent shrugged. ‘I was young and moderately attractive once.’   

‘Ya boink some senator’s wife?’ Selina asked.

‘I could tell you,’ he said, ‘but I suspect that indiscretion would immediately disqualify me.’

She laughed a little too loudly. ‘You want a drink? I need a drink.’

He was watching her. ‘Have you changed your mind?’

Selina sloshed whiskey into her glass. ‘What? No.’ She downed her drink in one and stalked across to him. She poked him in the chest with the glass as she spoke. ‘Are you getting cold feet? Because I am good to go.’

Kent took the glass from her and put it on the dresser behind him. ‘You seem… agitated.’

‘Oh I am hot to trot, mister,’ she said, standing on her tiptoes to push her face into his. ‘So put on your big boy pants and fuck me.’

Kent opened his wallet, took out a couple of condoms, and put them on the dresser. ‘That is without a doubt the least appealing come-on that I’ve ever heard,’ he said.

‘Obviously you’ve never heard any of Jonah’s lines.’

His lips twitched and his eyes narrowed. Kent’s version of disgust. ‘Good lord, are you trying to stop this happening?’

Selina sniggered. ‘What’s up, Kent, your little general not up to saluting?’ She slid her hand into his groin. He stiffened. And then the rest of him stiffened.

‘Merely resting, Ma’am.’ He pushed away her hand and reached for her t-shirt.

‘Hey!’ she slapped his hand. ‘I’ll do that.’

‘Hmm. So, you can touch me but I can’t touch you.’

‘Now you’re getting it.’

Kent knelt down to take off his sneakers. ‘That seems unfair.’

Selina peeled back the bedclothes. ‘Listen buster, I spend every day being judged on my hair, my clothes, and my makeup. Ya think Hughes had to put up with that bullshit? Hell no. This is a man’s world I’m fighting against.’

‘What does that have to do with anything?’ He stood and unbuttoned his sleeves.

Selina poked his chest. ‘You got a problem with me making the rules? Huh? Oh big man, whatcha gonna do now? You gonna pin me down and show me who’s boss?’ she sneered. ‘That whatcha gonna do?’

He only paused for a moment, but the wait was excruciating.

‘Is this what you’re going to do?’ he asked, stepping forward and pushing her back. ‘Hmm? You’re going to whine and pout? Poor you.’ He lowered his face. ‘Poor President of the United States.’

‘Still a fucking woman.’ She squeaked as she came up against the edge of the bed.

Kent unbuttoned his shirt. ‘The most powerful in the world and one of the richest in the country.’

‘You better fucking believe it.’ Selina unbuckled his belt and yanked it free. She meant to throw aside but he caught her wrist and spun her around. She fell forward, hands outstretched to break her fall, and his left arm caught her around the waist.

‘You know what happens to poor little rich girls who whine about their lives?’ he said.

‘Do they…’ She growled at the sting of his hand across her ass. ‘That it? My mom hits harder than…’ She grunted at the second slap and pushed back against his hand. ‘Better.’

He ripped down her yoga pants and panties in a smooth, speedy movement. ‘Another word and I’ll use that belt.’

‘You wouldn’t dare.’

Kent whirled her around and threw her down onto the bed. ‘You’re right.’ He kicked off his shoes. ‘Take off your top.’

Selina leant up on her palms. ‘Take it off me.’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘I will.’

She leant forward and grabbed him by the waistband of his jeans. ‘You’re all freaking talk,’ she complained as she pulled him down onto the bed.

‘And you’re inconsistent.’ He wriggled out of his shirt and pitched it aside, followed by his jeans. ‘It’s an idiosyncratic charm at best.’

She pivoted around to straddle him. She unbuttoned his boxers and he raised his hips for her to tug them down.

‘Please, you wouldn’t know charm if it bit you on the ass.’

Kent slid his hands around her waist. ‘Let’s try, but you first.’

She peeled off her top and dragged his hands up to her chest. ‘You wanna bite me, Kent? Do it.’

He unclasped her bra. ‘I should.’

‘I dare ya,’ she hissed, wrapping her hand around him. ‘I fucking double dare ya.’

Kent handed her one of the condoms. ‘While you’re there why don’t you make yourself useful.’

Selina smirked as she rolled the condom onto him. ‘Makes a change to have someone else touching it, huh? Poor lonely guy probably hasn’t met anyone new in a while.’

Kent tucked the pillows behind him and sat up slightly. ‘He’s not the most gregarious.’ He slipped his hands around her waist and pulled her slightly forward.

‘Oh, is this what you like?’ She asked, rocking against him. ‘You like me on top?’

‘Now seems an inopportune moment for you to express an interest in my desires.’

Selina grunted a little as he entered her. ‘Don’t confuse curiosity with actually giving a crap.’

His hands were warm as his thumbs circled her nipples. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t,’ he said.

***

‘What the fuck is that noise?’ Selina demanded. She was sprawled across the bed. Hell her legs were dangling over the edge of the bed. She didn’t want to move; she didn’t want any fricking noise disturbing her.

‘My cell,’ Kent muttered.

Selina half turned and shoved at his shoulder. ‘Go. Shut it off.’

He lightly slapped her hands away as he sat up.

‘Ow.’

He gave her a look. She narrowed her eyes.

‘And my ass hurts,’ she sulked.

‘A natural consequence of demanding to be slapped harder,’ he said, and answered his phone.

She languidly waved a hand. Geez, how long was he going to hang around anyway? Maybe she could have the secret service drag him out and dump him on the lawn. She grinned at the thought. Except then he probably wouldn’t want to screw again. But he was Kent so who knew what went on in his head. Maybe he wouldn’t mind. Maybe he’d enjoy it. He hadn’t needed much persuading to paddle her ass, for all he got prudish about words like cock and tits. Speaking of which, the gentle rub of his beard against her skin had left sensitive and faintly pink areas. Jesus. Every freaking little pleasure had a price.

Kent was scowling as he thumbed off the call.

‘Is that a “we’re so screwed” face or a “hurray, good news” face?’ Selina asked. It’s hard to tell with you.’

He either smiled or grimaced, she couldn’t tell which.

‘A disgruntled ex-mistress is shopping around a kiss and tell,’ he said, putting a hand on his hip. ‘Apparently she has photographs.’

Selina sat up. ‘You’re not even married; how can you have an ex-mistress?’

‘Ben,’ he said.

‘Ben is your ex-mistress?’

He narrowed his eyes. ‘Did you bang your head?’

‘No, but I haven’t been sleeping for shit.’

‘Ah.’ Kent rubbed his forehead. ‘A former mistress of Ben’s is shopping around a kiss and tell.’

Selina’s lip curled up. ‘That whole sentence is so… urgh. Why’s Ben calling you about it?’

He picked up his clothes. ‘He didn’t. He doesn’t know anything about it. That was Richard Gauden. The lady approached one of the tabloids that he owns.’

She could see he wasn’t about to leave, not with this mess so fresh. ‘Why’s he calling you?’

‘He always gives us an opportunity to buy out the story.’

Selina blinked. ‘Out of the goodness of his heart, no doubt.’

Kent smiled thinly. ‘No doubt.’

‘Huh.’ She stood. ‘Do you always do that, buy the story?’

He shrugged with one shoulder. ‘No. It depends on what’s advantageous at the time or potentially in the long run.’

Selina pushed her hair back. ‘You ever get one of those calls about me?’

‘Sure.’ He held up his hand. ‘Damage control is part of my purview.’

Selina crossed her arms across her chest. ‘Elaborate.’

Kent walked back to the bed and sat down. I’m not sure what purpose it would serve.’

‘Gee, I don’t know. The purpose would be in knowing.’ She prodded his thigh with her foot. ‘Spill.’

He pushed her ankle away with a mildly annoyed mien she’d seen old ladies apply to overexcited puppies. ‘For example, a couple of ex-suitors of Catherine’s attempted to sell their stories. There were some financial irregularities of Andrew’s. Plus, of course, there’s your arson of his car.’

Selina blinked. She drew the bedclothes around her, suddenly feeling very cold. ‘My… what?’

Kent tilted his head. ‘The car was parked in full of view of the gates. Surely the possibility of being observed must have occurred to you.’

‘Well fuck me, maybe someone about to torch a car isn’t really thinking clearly enough to consider that!’

‘Presumably you calmed down in the days, weeks, and months subsequent.’

Selina gave him a look. ‘Clearly you’ve never been divorced.’

He stood up and glanced around the room. ‘Might I use your shower?’

‘That thing with Andrew’s car was _years_ ago. How did you know about it? Was it Dan? Did that little shit tell you?’

‘What? Why on earth would you tell Dan about that?’

She threw her hands up. ‘Because he said he needed to know my worst secrets. You know, in case it came up during the campaign.’

Kent blew out his cheeks. ‘Putting that insanity to one side, the crime was perpetrated years ago but it wasn’t until your becoming Hughes’ running mate that the witness came forward. If it had been while you were running for the nomination, then things could’ve been very different.’

‘You’d have let her publish it?’ she demanded.

‘Ma’am, if you had learned the same about one of your competitors then you wouldn’t have hesitated.’

‘Shit,’ she grumbled.

Kent sighed. ‘Shower?’

‘What? I suppose if you really have to. But don’t be in there all day.’

He rolled his eyes as he walked away. ‘Your generosity is boundless.’

Selina shuffled to the head of the bed and lay back against the headboard. Fuck. Shit fucking shitty fuck. Did he say photographs? Why hadn’t they told her? They hadn’t even told her about Catherine or what the hell ‘irregularities’ Andrew had been up to. It was galling. Fucking Kent had been sitting on this stuff for _years_. Was he still going to do something with it? What about the publisher, was he? And what did they know? Selina was no wilting flower. She’d sailed close to the wind. A couple of times she’d sailed right into the fricking hurricane.

Well, she wasn’t going to sit around and wait to see what happened. No, sir. Selina Meyer didn’t march to that drummer. Instead, she pulled her nightgown on and barged into the bathroom. Kent clearly didn’t hear her over the roaring water: he was stood with his forehead and hands pressed against the wall. He looked in a world of his own. Selina reached across to the toilet and pushed the flush.

It was a couple of seconds before the sound of the water changed. She saw Kent’s shoulder’s brace and goose bumps ripple over his skin. He reached out blindly to turn off the water, then swivelled to face her.

‘You look like you fell down a well,’ she said.

Kent scowled at her. ‘If this is your idea of humour, you should know that I despise pranking and so-called practical jokes.’

She nodded. ‘Yeah, big surprise. I wasn’t pranking you. I don’t like you anywhere near enough for that.’      

He stared at her in silence for several seconds.

‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Right. I wanna know what else you and whoever else know, and I wanna know what you plan to do about it.’

He brushed water from his face. ‘You destroyed Andrew’s car almost a decade ago. Surely this can wait until I’ve finished showering.’

‘It’s okay for you, you’re not the one with this hanging over her.’

‘No, I’m merely naked and soaking wet.’

Selina felt a little smirk escape. ‘Yeah, I can see your steel core.’

He stepped back and turned to her. She tried not to look.

‘Ma’am, either leave or get in the shower with me. Those are your options.’

‘In your dreams.’

Kent shook his head and turned up the water, rinsing off the suds.

‘Okay,’ she said. ‘You need to tell me something.’

Kent scowled at her over his shoulder and then obviously decided that he wasn’t going to be allowed to enjoy the rest of his to ablutions. He turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. He looked at her silently as he reached for a towel.

‘Something about you,’ she said. ‘Something… I don’t know. You know way too much about me.’

Kent began drying himself. ‘So you’re angry at me for doing my job.’

‘Not for the first time.’

‘You’re aware that in no way assists.’ Kent opened the bathroom door and walked out into the bedroom.

Selina grabbed another towel and snapped it across the back of his thighs. ‘I’m serious.’

He rubbed the thin red line across the back of his legs. ‘You’re aware that I _didn’t_ ask to be struck.’

‘Oh boo hoo, suck it up.’

Kent opened his backpack and took out a clean set of clothes. He sat down to dress. ‘The biggest secret I have is that I have had intimate relations with the US President.’

‘Ha fucking ha.’

‘Twice,’ he said, pulling on fresh boxers.

Selina sat down on the bed next to him and prodded his shoulder. ‘Nobody spends their lives around politics without getting grubby.’

‘But I haven’t spent my life in politics.’ He slapped her hand away and pulled on his jeans. ‘Ma’am, my life is both simple and straightforward. I assure you that there are no bodies buried in my basement.’

Selina pulled a face and then stood up. ‘Yeah, we’ll see about that.’ She brushed her fingers through her hair. ‘And don’t call me “ma’am” before, during, or after sex. That’s fucking creepy.’ She shot him a look. ‘If you’re into that kind of thing. I’m not.’

He frowned. ‘It was merely a slip of the tongue.’

‘Well watch where your tongue is slipping,’ Selina said. ‘Hey, you said you didn’t always buy off the stories.’

Kent buttoned up his shirt. ‘There are times when allowing the stories to be propagated is more advantageous.’

Selina snorted. ‘You threw people under the bus. Didya throw me under the bus? Didya give your asshole buddy the newspaper man any stories about me?’

He looked at her. ‘Given that embarrassing stories about you are a seemingly endless resource, it would be an obvious and stupid lie to say no.’

Selina snorted. ‘Wow. Just when I didn’t think you could be more of a dick you surpass yourself.’

Kent shook his head. ‘Am I being lectured on ethics by a woman who scheduled a military operation purely to upstage Sue? As a result of which a man who would’ve otherwise returned home unscathed, lost his leg.’

‘ _What?’_

Kent moved back a little. As he fucking _should_.

‘ _What_ the fuck did you say?’ Selina demanded, standing in front of him.

Kent put up his hands. ‘I –’

Selina’s voice was a low rasp and each word was punctuated by a punch to his shoulders and chest. ‘What did you just say to me?’

‘Stop that!’ Kent grabbed her wrists. ‘Don’t hit me.’

‘Let me fucking go!’ she demanded, squirming as he tumbled her on the bed.

‘I will not be struck in anger,’ he said, pushing her away and letting go of her. ‘First and last warning.’

Selina pushed herself along the bed. ‘Jesus! Okay, fine, you giant… fucking… baby.’ She rubbed her wrists. ‘You pick your time to play rough, Kent.’

He stood up and took a step back. ‘And yet evidently not as rough as you.’ He licked his lips. ‘Are you… hurt?’

‘Why, you feel bad?’ she asked. ‘Emotion circuits playing up?’

Kent sighed quietly. ‘Are you hurt?’

Selina rolled her eyes. ‘Only my pride, and that gets the crap beaten out of it every damn day.’ She picked up her yoga pants. ‘Who pissed on your parade? Don’t tell me I broke your shoulder or something.’

Kent ran his fingers through his hair. ‘Everyone has a raw nerve. Apparently we have succeeded in accidentally finding each other’s.’

She sighed and slumped back on the bed. ‘I would’ve never picked that date if I’d known what would happen.’

Kent’s hand twitched for a moment and then jerked forward to pat her shoulder.

Selina smiled slightly. ‘That’s the best you’ve got, huh?’

He inclined his head. ‘Offering comfort is, admittedly, not my strong suit.’

'Geez, I'm not shoving any dollars into your boxers on that performance.' 

Kent looked at her blankly for a moment. 'Ah. I recall the reference.'

‘Well, I’m gonna get a shower.’ She stood up and pulled off her nightgown. ‘So, shoo.’

‘Yes, Ma’am.’

She gave him a look.

‘I don’t believe I feel comfortable using your given name,’ he muttered.

‘Didn’t think you _did_ uncomfortable,’ Selina said. ‘Or embarrassed.’

‘Nonetheless.’

She shook her head. ‘We just screwed. I’m standing here bare ass naked! If you’re not comfortable using my freaking name now, then I don’t know when you would be.’

Kent laced up his walking boots. ‘But we’re not friends,’ he said. ‘Nor are we equals. You’re the president. I’m your campaign manager. Neither of us has any desire for this to mean anything more than it does.’

Selina threw up her hands. ‘Well, no. Of course not. This doesn't mean a damn thing.’ She paused for a moment. ‘Absolutely not. But I’m not asking you to marry me. Just don’t freaking call me “ma’am.” You don’t even have to call me Selina if it bothers you so damn much.’

‘Right,’ he said.

‘So, you know, you should leave. I’m going to have my shower.’ She waved a hand and held her head high as she marched into the bathroom.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  


End file.
